Waka Flocka enjoys that 'Triple F Life'

Horrible lyrics can't sink this speedboat of an album

Jun. 15, 2012

Written by

Eric Jaffe

Senior Staff Writer

Rating: 4/5

Maturity is both a gift and a curse. On one hand, becoming mature permits individuals to present themselves in a professional light.

We become capable of higher thought—creatures of “taste.” On the other hand, the simple joys in life suddenly become, well, stupid. The bubbles you once enjoyed to chase around the yard, Pokémon Silver—they all become a thing of the past.

A question I’ve asked myself is if the same logic can be applied to music taste. Does our taste actually become more refined with age or are we simply pretending that we don’t enjoy listening to One Direction and Nickelback for the sake of our image as “adults?” Ask yourself that question and, when you think you have an answer, put on Waka Flocka Flame’s new LP Triple F Life: Friends, Fans and Family and think again.

The truth is, our music taste only evolves if we want it to. Critics of “higher opinion” tell us that the movies we watch and the music we enjoy are crap and the audio-loving masses choose to believe them. Often we forget that some artists have no intention of making a masterpiece. Hell, some artists just want to make the world dance.

“If you’re looking for lyrics, throw [my album] out the window,” said Mr. Flame, in a recent interview with Billboard Magazine. Heed the man’s warning; it’s a good one.

There’s no doubt that Waka Flocka’s new album is tasteless and needlessly vulgar. There’s also no confusion that Waka has the lyrical ability of a coked-out walrus. Both of these statements are facts—not necessarily personal opinion. But don’t get the wrong idea: it’s still pretty freaking awesome.

Tripe F Life picks up where Lil’ Jon and the Eastside Boyz left off in 2006. You’re undoubtedly familiar with the formula: bass-heavy club beats meet dope guest features and a whole lot of yelling. We’ve heard it again and again, but not since Jon himself has another hip hop artist released the kind of pure, uncut club anthems that Waka is pushing on a weekly basis. He may not be a lyricist, but he sure is entertaining.

I could go through this album track-by-track but for what purpose? You probably already have your mind made up about this kind of music. If “No Hands” makes you cringe every time it gets spun anywhere outside the club, this isn’t the album for you. Period. Otherwise, who knows? You might just enjoy it. Lyrically, Triple F Life is a joke. Actually, never mind lyrically, Waka’s verses rarely actually rhyme and entire chunks of the album consist of our ringleader repeatedly screaming his own name.

As pure entertainment, however, you could do a lot worse. The beats are rocking and the guest features rarely disappoint. Save a bit of filler, and you’ve got a nice package here. In fact, do yourself a favor. Buy “Fist Pump,” give it a listen and do with the rest of the album what you will. This, ladies and gentleman, is immaturity at its finest.